Slow ways of rapidly killing time

 

Those were the easy-going slow-paced days. Elegant and alluring with their nostalgic strains, still affable with their withering charm, those moments behold the enduring symbolism of goodness that shone always brighter in the past. Bathing on the well-curbs was a particularly socializing act during those times. Beyond the modern-day clanking and urging sounds, there was silence and power in those laidback moments. Time moved with a very slow, holistic elegance. It wasn’t slipping away. It was in fact so plentiful that one could kill it to one’s satiation. And if the bucket fell into the well, it would offer a still bigger opportunity to slaughter time en masse. A hook would be lowered at the end of a rope and many faces would calmly stare into the muddled water as the harpoon was dragged around the invisible muddy bottom. There would be just a few phrases of success in the incomprehensible paperwork of the entire set of probabilities. The rope would change many hands and it would continue for hours. A basket retrieved after dredging by many hands amounted to a very successful day in the life of all those involved including the onlookers.